


Carry On

by Bloodwolf



Category: Disco Elysium (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Minor Spoliers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-18 21:37:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodwolf/pseuds/Bloodwolf
Summary: Kim is there.
Relationships: Harry Du Bois/Kim Kitsuragi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 96





	Carry On

**Author's Note:**

> *just fucking throws this at the fandom
> 
> Just take it. 
> 
> I had an idea of what do do to this, but then suddenly i didn't, and now here it is.
> 
> Plus with figuring out how to write for this fandom is also tricky. I think i may have it down, who knows.
> 
> *flicks cap of vodka
> 
> I have stuff in my head! Better stuff! 
> 
> Title is from the Avenged Sevenfold song of the same name.

At the end of their third day in the Martinaise, Harry Du Bois and Kim Kitsuragi told Billie Méjean that her husband was dead.

( _You watched as she sobbed into the sleeve of her dress, as you greedily grip the lieutenants handkerchief. You couldn't bring yourself to give it to the grieving woman. You coward._ )

The walk back to the Whirling was silent, only the sound of crunching snow underfoot as the duo made their way to the front doors. Kim glances your way.

( _He's wondering if you're staying here tonight, or at the shack._ )

Harry nods, reaching for the handle. "You heading to the balcony?" He inquires. His voice feels like gravel.

"Yes," Kim sighs, already taking his carton from his jacket pocket. He doesn't sound any better.

"Alright. I'll join you."

__

The cold didn't change from the few minutes they were inside. It bites at Harry's collar as he pulls out his Astras. He lights Kims first before your own and you wait for the warm relief from your first drag.

( _It never comes._ ) 

Harry was the first to break the silence. It feels like a knife in the still air. "It doesn't get easier, does it?"

The lieutenant doesn't say anything at first, only pulls at the short sleeves of his bomber. "No," he finally replies, breathing out his first draw, "it doesn't."

( _He remembers his last partner. He remembers the cries, the screams, the blames and the finger pointing. He couldn't bring himself to say otherwise._ ) 

"All we can do at this point," his voice jolts Harry away from the Voices and he blinks back at him as he breathes in the white stick, "is just move on."

Harry leans over the railing, eyes not off his partner once. His own cigerette a few centimeters away. "That's it?"

"There's nothing more we can do for her." Kim moves closer to Harry and leans over as well. His stoney expression pierces. "All that's left is for her to heal. We can't always be heroes."

( _Deep, deep down, you wish this was a murder. That way can do something. But alas._ ) 

With that, Harry hums, and looks back at the dimly lit streets of the Martinaise and brings his cigarette back to his lips.

"You did well, however, Harry."

At the slight sound of his own name, he flinches, either from muscle memory or the cold, he can't tell, but it sounds nice hearing it from Kim.

( _He said he wouldnt call you that!_ ) 

( _Because right now, there are no detectives. Right now it's just you and Kim, two aging men having a smoke late a night on the balcony looking over the watery shores of the city._ ) 

Harry blinks the Voices away, smoke pouring out from his nose. He looks back at Kim, who's back at staring at the dark night. His one cigerette is half done and the smoke from his look almost ethereal.

( _If you're gone, he will be the bearer of bad news._ ) 

( _But who will he tell? In fact, if the roles were reversed, who will you tell?_ ) 

"Kim, do you have someone at home?" The detective cringes just as the question leaves his mouth. Just a few hours ago he was lecturing Harry and he promised he'd drop it. He can only hope the lieutenant doesn't take it the wrong way.

Luckily, Kim doesnt, but he still pauses. If it's for himself or for Harry, he can't tell. "No," he finally concedes.

( _He gave up. His last relationship was more than half a decade ago. The RCM takes his time more than ever, and it comes first. Being homo-sexual doesn't help matters none._ ) 

Harry pats Kim on the back as a sort of consoling gesture. The lieutenant nearly stumbles, but he takes the kindness nonetheless. In silence his draws his last hit of his one cigerette and smashes the butt onto the rail.

"Get some rest, officer. Tomorrow, it's back on the case." With one pat on Harry's shoulder and one final breath he's gone, leaving the other to his own devices. Harry takes one more deep breath of his own before releasing it into the cold night.

( _Even through thick gloves, his hand is warm._ ) 

___ 

That night comes up a lot when he's forced to play the messenger. Looking out over the bright Jamrock skyline in the dead of the night, nursing a few growing bruises and a cigerette, he hears Kim rustling in the apartment behind him and he just breathes.

He remembers the widow pounds on his chest wailing as the news leaves his mouth. The Voices are telling him not to do a damn thing as she grows gradually more hysterical. The spare hankerchief that was supposed to go to her was slapped from roughly from his hand. In the corner of the your eye, he sees three children, not one over nine years old. Kim, the ever silent vigil, tries to defuse the situation, but in the end, they're kicked out of the house, the lieutenant only barely managing to leave the morgue number and funeral brochure next to the front door.

Once the door closed behind them, Harry could only mutter a single "ow", while rubbing the sore flesh with his palm. Kim gives you a passing worried glance before patting the small of his back and guides Harry to the motor carriage.

"Let's go, there's nothing left for us here." He says as he offers to take you home.

The balcony door shuts behind him, jolting Harry from his memories. He turns his head and sees Kim holding a Frittte bag stuffed with ice. His One Cigerette dangles from his lips as he leans next to Harry and passes the makeshift ice pack to the detectives unbuttoned chest. "The first aid kit is empty."

Harry takes the bag gratefully, pressing the cold bag to your heated skin. He fumbles for a match to light Kim, but the lieutenant leans close and kisses the tip of his One Cigarette to Harry's. He puffs and his light up with a small ember and finally his own ritual begins as he pulls out his notebook.

( _He's been getting bold lately. You both have been._ ) 

In the apartment next door, the detective could hear the angry screams of a married couple past their prime. Down below, he hears the laughter of children during a late board game. Across the hall past the apartment, a passionate night, with shuddering moans and breathy encouragements.

However, none are as loud as Kim, whose steady breathing and pounding heart anchors Harry. He's quiet though, and his notebook is still dangling from his hand.

( _Kim doesn't like the hysterical ones. The yelling, the crying, the blaming- it makes him remember._ ) 

"Hey, Kim."

Harry's voice makes the lieutenant flinch out of his thoughts. He flicks the building ash from his One Cigarette and turns to face the detective. "Yes, Harry?"

Kim calls him by his name more often now. Anything less is either offical business or if he's mad at Harry. He did call him Harrier once, when Kim mistakenly thought he'd relapsed, and it scared him so much the detective refused to go on drug cases for weeks.

"Do you remember Billie Méjean? Back at the Martinaise?" You tap your own stick, letting the ashes fall two stories and set the plastic bag of nearly melted ice on the floor. He can get it later.

Even with the pale moonlight glossing over them, Harry could see a faint, fond smile from Kim's lips. Fondness not from the widow herself, or The Case, it's from the memories in and around it. "Yes? The widow, correct?"

Harry nods, "You know, I really wanted that man to be murdered."

Kim really only blinks at the sudden confession. "Really."

( _He had suspected as much._ ) 

"Yeah, I know, kinda shitty of me right?" Another huff and a tap on the rail. "I just thought that, if he was murdered, I could do more to help her. But as far as I could tell, I can't arrest freak accidents."

( _Not yet anyway._ ) 

"But you know what? There was this really, really cool detective there with me that night."

THAT got Kim's attention. The lieutenant was mid-puff on his One and he spatters and coughs into his glove. It's rare to see him dumbfounded. Last time that happened, Harry shaved.

"He was behind me the whole time. Like a ghost. Maybe a more phycial one. But he was there. He gave the old woman reassurance, and information I couldn't possibly think to give. And that night, we smoked together. Kinda like now. And he was even cooler. Then he told me..." Harry takes another draw, letting the nicotine settle in his lungs before continuing. Kim is silent next to him, and he swears by the party robe that he's smiling under the palm covering his mouth _ _.__

( _Score!_ ) 

"He told me that we can always be a hero. That shit happens, and we just gotta deal. Get my shit together. Now..." he's closer to the lieutenant now, a whisper distance.

( _Like lovers!_ ) 

( _Lovers swapping sweet nothing's in the dead of night, only heard by the wind and the stars._ ) 

"Can I be there, Kim? For you? I won't ask about..." Harry waves his free hand, as if shooing a fly. "'That'. But I want to be behind you, too. Like a ghost. The cool partying kind."

Kim stays silent throughout the speech. His hand is on over his mouth, with his One dangling loosely between fingers. He's piercing you through his glasses and Harry can only hope that his eyebrow doesn't twitch.

Nothing comes however. Just silence.

( _Uh-oh._ ) 

( _You can't read him. His stoney face seems more hardened then usual._ ) 

( _But he was just smiling!_ ) 

( _You came on too strong, Harry. Now you've gone fucked it up._ ) 

( _Calm down, it's just Kim. He won't leave._ ) 

As the Voices chatter away endlessly, Harry begins planning his backtrack- until he feels the tale-tell feeling of a gloved hand caressing his own. He blinks as the hand clenches tighter. Reassuring. Accepting. 

( _Oh._ ) 

( _See Harry? He's giving you a chance- himself one as well. Don't squander it._ ) 

( _He's there, my liege. And now so are you._ ) 

**Author's Note:**

> Formatting.
> 
> Why is the formatting fucked why are you doing this


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